One Night With the Bikers – Screaming Eagles MC Read Online Stephanie Brother

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Biker, Erotic, MC, Suspense, Taboo Tags Authors:
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Total pages in book: 86
Estimated words: 79338 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 397(@200wpm)___ 317(@250wpm)___ 264(@300wpm)
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Yep, not your ordinary wedding. It's my signal to walk up to the guys and stand with them.

Eagle-eye turns to me first. “Mila, I have to admit that you worry me.”

Uh, what?

“More than one of our old ladies has brought danger to the club, but you? You have a nose for trouble, and if it wasn't for you, my little girl would never have been nearly gunned down by a bunch of filthy mercs at the Channel 7 studios.”

Oh. Right. I didn't think that was where we were heading, but…

He shrugs. “Luckily, bored men are the ones that give me the biggest headaches, and I doubt you’ll ever let these poor bastards have a dull day in their lives so it might be a good investment. Just don't let it fucking happen again, you hear me?” He waits like he's actually waiting for a response.

“Uh, yes, sir. I'll do my best.”

He snorts a laugh. “Sir. Kids these days. Anyway, since you're still here and haven't kicked Reaper, Scrapper and Mack out on their asses instead, I assume you wanna go through with this. It's serious business, and don't let anyone tell you any different. They're gonna expect you to be faithful to them and the club, to be there for them when they need you, and to accept that the life of a blooded member of the Screaming Eagles MC doesn’t always make them the easiest partners. We expect you to put up with that shit. Do you promise to do this for them?”

Wedding vows aren't all that different in the end, just how you phrase them. “I promise. Always.”

He nods with a grunt, then turns to the boys. “And you three. I've got high expectations. More importantly, Mila's got high expectations. You better not fuck it up.”

They all nod.

“I'm personally counting on you three to keep Mila safe, to support her when she needs it and show her what a Screaming Eagles man is good for when she needs it. Assume you take my drift. You're gonna protect your girl, you're gonna love your girl, and when she decides she's had enough for a while, you're gonna give your girl space and not be an asshole about it. No fucking around either or I'm gonna personally keelhaul you fuckers twice around the damn compound. Clear? This is a commitment for life.”

“Clear, Prez,” says Reaper while Scrapper and Mack nod solemnly.

“Good. Then let everyone in the club remember that Mila is property of the Fixer Uppers over here. Mess around with her, and we'll show you where the damn exit from the club is, as we kick your ass through it.” Faith laughs down in the audience when she realizes that they've been named after the social media account she made for them. The guys just shrug. “Alright people. Get drunk. Have fun. Go upstairs and fuck. I don't care.”

The guys look at me, and I'm pretty sure we might just skip the drinking. The grand reopening of the Eagles' Roost turned out to be really convenient.

Meghan sees the look that passes between us, and sighs with a roll of her eyes. “At least they make good drinks here. I'll be with Carrie and Liz.”

“I'll be down later,” I promise.

“Uh uh. Just do me a favor and don't tell me how amazingly wonderful it was. I'm not sure how much more of that I can take.”

As the guys close in on me, looking determined to carry me upstairs if I don't start running, I yell after her, “No promises!”

41

JUDGE ROYCE KINKAID

The metal door slams shut behind me, ending life as I knew it. A judge, and they fucking threw the book at me. After so many years of building connections, of positioning myself, of doing what I've been told, I've been discarded. No one's called me back, no one's offered to help, and even my appeal was turned down. Why was the appeal turned down? I've seen more than enough cases to know that it should've been accepted.

And now my lawyers aren't even answering their phones.

Abandoned. Fucking abandoned.

“Kincaid,” says the guard sharply. “Get a fucking move on it. I don't have all day. Straight ahead.”

I walk down the cell row, dressed in orange, carrying my assigned towels, toiletries and changes of clothes with me like a common fucking prisoner. And every time I slow down, the goddamn prison guard nudges me with his baton.

I don't belong here.

I've been double-crossed.

We reach the end of the cell block and enter the space between the double gates that separates it from the next. But once the one behind us shuts, the one ahead doesn't open.

“What's going on?”

The guard's voice is cold, calculated. “I think you know damn well what's going on. You were warned. Fuck up, and everything goes away. You've become a liability.”



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